Refreshing the Weather

When I was a kid – which is to say ages ago – TV winter weather forecasts were highly watchable, because they were kind of fun.

In my hometown of St. Louis, we grew up watching a guy named Clif St. James give us the weather within the weeknight newscasts on the NBC affiliate KSD-TV, Channel 5.

In addition to being a consummate pro on the air, St. James was a talented artist, so he’d often spice up his reports by dropping homemade images of cartoon characters and other fun items onto his big two-state weatherboard.

St. James, who doubled as the station’s kid show host Corky the Clown, sometimes had no opportunity to remove his makeup after a weeknight taping of his Corky’s Colorama program, so on occasion he’d deliver his 10 pm weather report in full clown gear.

You couldn’t get away with that today.

TV stations take their weather reports seriously now – very seriously - and I guess that’s a good thing.

When an F3 tornado is bearing down on your home you’d rather not be getting your information from a guy wearing a big red rubber nose.

But after weeks of “snow, cold, repeat” the TV weather casts in my town are getting to be old hat.

Powercasts, Futurecasts, and even the old standby AccuWeather have lost their pizazz.

I’ve moved on from The Storm Team and First Warn from The Severe Weather Center.

How about some new stuff? How about a refresh?

Come to find out there’s a whole website dedicated to ensuring a TV station’s weather reports pack a punch – even if the storms the station is tracking, don’t.

It’s chock full of advice to broadcasters on how to make their weather reports shine, including use of the term, The Weather Authority. “Not only is the name straightforward,” boasts the site, “but it also ‘lays down the law’ on the strength of a station’s weather forecasts!”

Something about this image was just too good to pass up.

So, I’m toying with starting my own broadcast weather consulting firm. I’m thinking of calling it the FunCast Group. (Consultants are always a “group,” by the way, even if they’re just one person. Makes ‘em look more legitimate.)

Its mission statement: Make the Weather More Fun.

I’d start with “The Weather Authority.”

I’d advise clients to consider employing a true Weather Authority, a big-bellied “Sheriff Meteorologist” wearing a ten-gallon hat and a necktie that’s too short telling the audience in a thick drawl, “Now lookee here son, around these parts I’m the Weather Authority. I’m the weather judge and jury, so you’d better listen up to my five-day forecast!”

You want a Weather Authority? I’ll probably lose my preferred table at the parish fish fry for this suggestion, but The Papal Predictor would be fun.

On my yet-to-be-built website, I’d suggest this branding tool for stations in markets with large Catholic populations.

I’d tell my clients, “The Papal Predictor might feature a Weather Balcony, where a staff meteorologist wearing a mitre atop his head, might read his forecast from a parchment scroll, to a throng of viewers below. Stations might consider installing a system in which puffs of white smoke are emitted to indicate a new forecast. Broadcasters are urged to use, at the end of each weather report, the tagline, ‘Our Forecasts Are Infallible!’”

“A variation of the above,” I’d advise, “might be The MosesCast, featuring a robe-wearing meteorologist with a long, flowing beard reading a list of ‘winter weather commandments.’”

‘Winter Commandment number three – thou shalt dress in layers!’”

Speaking of beards, The Shave Severity Index would be a great promotion for your male meteorologists. Let the viewer judge the seriousness of a storm by the growth of stubble on the face of your formerly clean-shaven weather guy.

There are all sorts of other thematic possibilities.

I have friends who insist you can tell the severity of an impending storm by looking to see how many meteorologists are on set, and whether they’re wearing their sports jackets. Three meteorologists on screen, all sans coats and with their sleeves rolled up, means you’d better run for the cellar and stock up on canned goods.

This could be the Coats Off Cast.

I’d suggest to clients a one-off from the Powercast -- the “NoPowerCast.”

Stations that lose their audience because a storm has knocked out their viewers’ juice might consider driving their news vehicles down the street, with reporters employing a megaphone to shout the latest forecast, as in “look for a wintry mix the rest of the evening…..”

I’d suggest the Drive-thru Fastfood Forecast. “This concept ties in well with local drive-through restaurants as sponsors. This weather forecast, which shows promise among viewers who are on the go, is delivered by a semi-comatose kid wearing a headset, and mumbling an indiscernible weather prediction through a crummy, distorted speaker.”

I’d have my clients consider “’The Weather Mom.”

Dressed like the Vicki Lawrence character from “Momma’s Family,” she would tell her listeners, “You’ll listen to this forecast and like it!” Alternately known as the MaCast, this concept would particularly resonate with older viewers who miss their late parents. Added bonus: The Weather Mom would admonish the station’s news anchors to “keep their elbows off the news desk.”

I’d request consideration of the CheescakeCast, delivered by an attractive young man or woman wearing a tight sweater. Numerous studies have shown viewers would prefer looking at such images, as opposed to viewing a graphic of a low-pressure system forming over the Dakotas.

I’d push for The Carnac Cast, delivered by slim, witty forecaster wearing a large turban, holding a sealed envelope to his forehead, trying to ascertain the forecast contained within.

Each envelope would be kept in a mayonnaise jar on Funk N’ Wagnall’s porch since noon that day.

St. Louisans of a certain age certainly would appreciate, according to my consulting service, the StanKannKast. A short, well-intentioned mensch of a weathercaster would be equipped with Doppler Radar, the latest computer graphics, and a set of old vacuum cleaners – but none of it would work.

All of the above is, of course, ridiculous stuff that should be taken with a huge grain of salt – the kind I’ve been spreading on my driveway for the past month.

I must say I’ve gotten pretty good at spreading it on thick.

But this is what happens when you’re homebound for days, watching the snow pile up on the patio.

It’s supposed to hit 60 degrees here next week, so all of this likely will go away.

And maybe that is the most refreshing weather news of all.

As always, thanks for reading.